


The Butcher/Nymph Modern AU verse: drabbles

by HardCandyscribblin



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Edging, Fluff, Love, Lust, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Slow Burn, Smut, burning man festival, fun in the sun, mornings are for coffee and contemplation, sweet like chocolate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardCandyscribblin/pseuds/HardCandyscribblin
Summary: A collection of short stories from the Butcher/Nymph Modern AU verse.Geralt Rivia is a MMA fighter (UFC heavyweight)Jaskier is a World famous DJ, multi instrumentalist and music producer.Fate bought them together. This is their life.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. After Midsummer

**Author's Note:**

> More from the B/N modern AU while I work through a creative block. I hope you enjoy this little idea dumping ground. More notes at the end. There will be some heavy smut peppered through this. If you don’t like the man-love. Look away. Once again Thanks goes out to Kissa.

The morning after their annual midsummer party is a chilled affair. Ciri and Dara sitting at the coral granite island. Impossibly long limbs that could only belong to the gangly youth, tucked beneath their forms like pretzels. Ciri’s pale blonde tresses, crinkled from sleep and spilling round her shoulders like a cape made of bright gold. . Her white sleep shorts and camisole top are edged with white lace and tiny pink ribbon rosebuds. Her favourite sky blue dressing robe hangs from her forearms and trails down to the floor. Dara in Calvin Klein lounge wear in Retro warm shades of ginger, gold, and chocolate. The white sleeves of his top peek out of a thick chunky red cable-knit jumper. Both are in deep animated conversation about the previous night’s raucous revelry. They don’t notice Geralt walk in with all the grace of a stalking cat. For a heavyweight fighter at the top of his game and physicality, he’s surprisingly light on his feet.

Ciri jumps as his firm large hands land on her little bird-bone shoulders. “Morning Lion-Cub.” He says into the crown of her head with a quick peck, voice rough from sleep.

“Oh god... Dad. You made me jump” she gasps. Dropping her spoon back into her cereal bowl. Bright blue eyes big and wide from shock. Dara’s short yell cut off by a slim hand. Dark eyes like saucers. Geralt seemed to have surprised them both. 2 for the price of 1. He smirks and goes to the little Krups coffee machine next to the fridge. Pulls out 2 tiny cups and saucers from the cupboard above before hesitating and turning back to the late-teens whom have now resumed their chatter and photo comparisons. He gestures holding one cup aloft with a small grunt, brows drawn up in question.

He catches Ciri’s eye first.  
“Ah... no thanks dad. I got grapefruit juice.” She says with a quick smile.  
“Oh no Thankyou Mr Rivia.” Dara says quietly and ever the polite house guest, no matter how many times he’s been there. 

Geralt continues to go through his morning coffee ritual as he hears a familiar padding of bare feet and there is a chirrup of animated voices at his back.

“Morning Campers...!” Comes the sunny voice. “Hey Jaskier!”“Morning Jaskier!” Come the cheery replies. Oh to be ‘down with the kids’ Geralt thinks. His smirk to himself deepening as nimble fingers slide up the back of his charcoal muscle vest in warm greeting. “Hey There Witcher.” “Hello Lark.” Geralt hands him a freshly brewed espresso (dark roast, single shot how Jaskier likes it) and places a small kiss to the younger man’s pink-pale lips.

His Lark in question grins into the kiss. The delicate circlet, tiny hammered stars peeking amongst dark sleep-mussed locks still present on his head. They both turn, having felt two sets of eyes on them. Ciri is smiling. Dara looking away like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie-jar. Geralt wonders if his daughters smile is because of the open affection he’s showing or is it the fact that her favourite musician is still wearing her present to him. It could be both he mentally surmises with a sip of his double espresso.

Jaskier takes a gulp of his coffee with an mixed expression that Geralt has come to know as ‘yasss caffeine/ gods that’s bitter’ before he sweeps along (classic Gucci robe in florals and red/green stripes bellowing behind him, to sit opposite the two youths at the kitchen island with the little booty-shimmy he always does. 

“So Did you enjoy last night?” The DJ asks, setting the tiny cup down with a clack on hard surface. Geralt half listens as he fishes one of his tiny glass bottles of ‘health elixir’ out of the fridge.

The concoctions were part of his regimen and the ingredients were only ever minutely different depending on the stages of Geralt’s training (currently bulk-mode), but the core was the same. Something herby, something zesty and sometimes sweet. Vesemir believed that the old ways were best when it came to looking after the body and Geralt agreed. He felt from a bio-mechanic standpoint these little potions have him a good boost. An edge to his overall fitness. Jaskier himself wasn’t a fan. Not that there was anything wrong with them...... he just didn’t like the smell. 

Geralt came and sat next to Jaskier, shaking one of the little glass bottles. “Oh yes the best time! Here let me show you” Ciri says with exuberance. Dara smiles wide. The dark liquid sloshed lazily inside the bottle and Without thinking too much about the contents geralt uncapped it and down the health tonic down in one go. 

Jaskier watched him avidly and ciri wrinkled her nose, knowing well her adoptive fathers daily ritual. “Any good?”Jaskier asked really he knew the answer.

Geralt grimaced. The thick substance had been a mix of gotu kola, gurana, shilajit resin, mulberries and rosemary extract. A sickly smokey sweet taste cut through with fragent green herb. Not the most awful He’d been sent by Vesemir. Still  
Not the nicest. “Hmmm...” Geralt replied and downed his espresso to chase the taste away. 

“I could never take those things” ciri said with a matter-of-fact pout. “It’s good for you” Geralt firmly parried back. “Not if you make that face, it can’t be.” The teen smoothly replied. Before scooting closer round to Jaskier to show him the snapchats she’d taken of the night before. Dara also leaned closer, his elbows high on the countertop. Jaskier for his efforts shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Geralt before giving the other two his attention. She had him there.... 

Geralt got up and set about making breakfast for himself and jaskier. Ciri already had her date and walnut muesli with the coconut yoghurt that Geralt bought especially for her. (Dairy clogs and congests the skin Yennefer said in her latest Auretuza post.) Dara had helped himself to frootloops (a guilty treat of Jask’s) and full fat organic milk with chopped banana. Geralt made oatmeal with cream and pears and a scoop of vanilla protein powder added to his own steaming bowlful. 

The rest of the morning past pleasantly with ciri and jaskier cleaning away the breakfast items, Ciri and Geralt went to the livery closer to town to horse-ride and a little extra bonding time while Dara walked the trails outside the cabin with his canon SD camera and Jaskier went to the out-office to work on the various projects he had running and take calls with his manager and a real estate agent.

By late afternoon both Geralt and Ciri were back and Geralt had helped her and Dara pack their things. Jaskier had given them both presents to take away with them. A little token reminder of teenagers short holiday with them that would not bulk up their carry-on luggage. 

Ciri, for her small stature, gave them both the most bone-crushing of hugs and a sweet cherry-gloss kiss on each cheek as the private hire car turned up with its chrome finish and cliche black tinted windows. The chauffeur was already out and putting their cases away as Dara shook both men’s hands and thanked them for his time there. “Bye dad! Bye jaskier!”  
Cirilla called out from the passenger seat as the car pulled out of the shingle driveway down along the tree line. Geralt and jaskier continued to wave “Geralt bellowing out a “be good!” Knowing just how headstrong his girl was for her tutors back in New York. 

And with the last of their guests gone. The quiet returned.


	2. A game to be played

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now Geralt and Jaskier are alone again. Smut ensures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at chapter titles.   
> Enjoy :)

There’s little teasing touches as the day goes on and they go through the motions. Jaskier plays some sort of old Costes compilation over the sound system. It’s some sort of easy listening and quite calming. They spend time in the office, although apart - Geralt has a conference call with his merch people and then with Vesemir regarding his training and the next block of fights (should he win them consecutively) jaskier goes out onto the porch to chat to his PA about TomorrowLand festival  
In Europe and the logistics of getting his kit and crew there. They come together again in the kitchen and make a salad with couscous and chicken. There’s long lingering touches from both men and Geralt knows from the look in Jaskier’s bright blue eyes.... he know what game he’s playing. 

Two can play at that game Geralt thinks.  
He goes to the bathroom. It’s a power move he’s pulling here. Geralt knows Jaskier well. Knows that he’ll follow him. Geralt strips out of his allsaints henley, dark denim Levi’s (Geralt doesn’t bother with underwear when at home.) and turned on their rainfall shower, setting it to bone-meltingly hot. He stepped under the spray and dipped his head, letting the water rain down, the force of it bringing those white locks over his much famed features. Turning tresses from silvery white to a deeper grey. Geralt reaches for his shower gel - Oud and Sandalwood, poured a generous amount into his large palm and began to soap up his body. Fingers running up strong calves, thick muscular thighs. His skimmed past his cock, hot and heavy between his legs. Geralt ran his hands over the lightly furred cobbles of his abdominal muscles and up to rub over hairy hard pecs and pinch and rub tight trapezius and neck muscles. He threw his head back, sending water droplets smacking into the wall behind him and long locks to slap against the wet skin of his back. Eyes closed and mouth slightly parted he breathed in the heady musky scent that enveloped the small space. Was it obscene yes, was he putting on a show for the other man who had followed him in.... undoubtedly. A few minutes pass while Geralt continues to rub at the tension in his neck. Although his eyes are closed Geralt can hear over the rush of water the soft footsteps. the screen door opens and a cool gust of air hits his back and the temperature drops a little as hot misted air rushes out. Geralt doesn’t turn round. Instead He waits. 

Cool slender hands slide up from the large expanse of Geralt’s back, sliding a sud-slicked path round his sides and up over his chest making his pecs twitch as palms rest over Geralt’s nipples. The nubs pebble up and harden against the flat of Jaskier’s palms. Fingertips needing and drawing circles over chest hair. He feels The younger man’s smile as Jaskier leans in and plants a open mouthed kiss to the warm wet skin of Geralt’s shoulder blade.

“was that little show for me?” He asks with a teasing voice as he continues to knead Geralt’s chest. The Fighter’s lips twitch up into a slow small smile. He’s been caught out. “Mmmmm” he rumbles in reply bringing hands further back to hold the back of the DJ’s head and scritch and the short hairs at his nape and Jaskier peppers his shoulder with little kisses. Jaskier rand up on his tip toes to look down over Geralt’s shoulder.

“And is that for me too?” He asks all innocents and light knowing that Geralt know very well what THAT happens to be. 

“Hmm .... well that depends on what you plan to do with it..?”Geralt cocks a brow turning his head to just about see Jaskier. The younger man is sporting a high blush on his cheeks and blue turned dark with lust. Hair curling as water sprays off of Geralt and little rivets carve rivers through his soaped-up contours. Jaskier hums in the back of his throat, a mischievous smile on his face as he steps closer to Geralt bringing his front flush up against Geralt’s back. He can feel Jaskier’s excitement. The younger man’s cock is hot and hard, resting against the cleft of Geralt’s backside. the DJ’s hands slide down over Geralt’s famous six pack, fingers skim down the twin grooves that make up his Adonis belt (jaskier likes to lick there.) over the small thatch of pubic and to grasp his now fully erect cock. So hard and jutting out in front of them. Jaskier purrs in Geralt’s ear as both his hands grip and slowly stroke the shaft.   
“You know exactly what I want to do with it.” Jaskier makes a point of twisting his wrists at the tip of Geralt’s cock, over the glans. Making the older man hiss and pant. 

Geralt gives up on talking. Instead he cranes his neck back to capture Jaskier’s lips with his own. There’s a muffled sounds from both men as their tongues duel, jaskier picks up the pace, pulling and twisting over that big dick again and again. Slim hips crowd against Geralt’s thick butt. The fighter moves his hips back to grind against Jaskier’s cock. A wetness that has nothing to do with shower spray, slicking along the cleft of his arse cheeks. 

Geralt breaks the kiss to look at his lover with warm affection. “Hmm.... feels good.”  
Jaskier smiles and nips at the closest scarred shoulder, licking the roughened scar-tissue like a lazy cat.   
“Well ..... Witcher.... “ he continues to stroke, thumbs and fingers rubbing over the crease of Geralt’s cockhead, making the larger man’s hips pitch forward into the feelgood tingly sensation. 

“I think it could feel even better.” And with that the hands release his cock and Jaskier turns on his heel and is gone. Snagging a fluffy white hand towel and roughly drying himself with it as he goes.   
Geralt stands mouth agape for a few seconds, his dick throbbing with need. It seems he’s not won this little game of theirs yet and his Nymph is truly in a playful mood. The Bastard.


	3. A game to be played - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of cat and mouse ensures and a surprise awaits at the end.

Geralt frowns and sighs deeply. It’s the sound of a irked man that wants revenge. Already formulating the payback in his minds eye, Geralt brings his hand down to his cock, giving the (getting to painful) hardness a few loose tugs to take the edge off. Geralt washes away the remnants of soap quickly and shuts off the water. There is the faded noise of rustling redwoods from outside and the muted tones from Jaskier’s music compilation but not a peep from his Lark. Usually the man can’t help himself and make some sort of racket wether that’s tapping ringed fingers on any surface with some staccato fashion, whistling something stuck in his head, chatting away either to himself or Geralt. Where Geralt is quite, thoughtful and still, Jaskier is all movement and sound. So to hear nothing bar the background has Geralt quietly amused. It must be irritating his lover to no end to have to still himself to keep quiet. Jaskier would never last if he was in the film A Quiet Place. 

This is second nature to Geralt though and his training gives him the upper hand. A large luxuriously soft white towel is grabbed as her follows the set of wet footprints out of the bathroom. The warmth bought from the underfloor heating beneath white varnished wood is making the prints fade into nothing from the edging inward but Geralt can follow them. Looking round their be expanse of a bedroom. The only sign of the younger man is a damp crumpled towel carelessly flung on the floor. He’ll remember that when Geralt gets whined at for leaving wet towels on the floor again. 

Geralt rubs himself reasonably dry (forgoing a large erection, that bobs slightly with the gait of his walk) runs a hand through damp grey strands of long hair that’s starting to roughly dry, tosses his towel on the pile on the floor and moves with silent grace into the living room looking for his prey. 

There is nothing.... but stillness in the quiet. The midday sun streaming through the enormous windows makes this whole game more illicit, Like this is a game for nighttime only ‘Fuck it’ Geralt thinks. He stalks through the lower level of their home, spreading his weight through his feet evenly so not to make the floorboards creak. Currently playing over the SONOS sound system is ‘Dead End Street by Morten Varano’. the thumping bass and melodic scratches make it hard for Geralt to hear what above him in the den upstairs. Unless Jaskier decided to go ‘feral’ and resort to running outside in the crisp air stark bollock naked.... well that’s the only other option the DJ could take.  
Geralt rounded the kitchen into the main living space. Nothing touches and now the damp footprints had all but vanished. He cranes his neck to see if he can spot Jaskier hiding upstairs. There’s something a flash of movement and thudding of footsteps. Gotcha. 

Silently Geralt rounds the oh-so-chic white block staircase, tip-toeing over the neatly stacked books that litter the steps like arty trip-hazards to find Jaskier upmin their den, trying to hide behind the buttercup yellow rope seat. It would be quite comical if not for all that lovely skin on show and the erection the younger man is still sporting. Jaskier gets up with a start as Geralt takes the last 5 steps in 1 big bound. The little shit is still sporting the star crown from this morning, although now it’s at quite the jaunty angle, his damp hair sticking out here and there like little Devil horns. Blue eyes go wide and he throws up his hands while walking backwards as Geralt triumphantly advances. “Ah aha ... no no no no no wait...!” It’s all bluster of coarse. The fake panic in his voice. Jaskier is still toying and playing. Geralt knows it well. 

Jaskier’s grins becomes wider as Geralt closes the space between them, sporting his own small smile and huffs when Jaskier shimmies on the back foot trying to dance his way round the much bigger man. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
Geralt growls, and catches Jask by the hip. Other hand landing under his armpit and in a lightening quick move that causes the DJ to squeak and yell. Lifts him. sending feet into the air and legs akimbo. Geralt uses the momentum of the move to swing them both landing them into the rope seat. The damn thing swings wildly with the force of both men landing unceremoniously into it. The move was not a graceful grapple in any stretch but very effective in what Geralt has planned now his has his Lark at his side. maybe jaskier has learned a lesson here? You can’t out manoeuvre a man who’s living is made on the UFC circuit. 

Eyeing his Lark up-close, Geralt notices the light pinking of Jaskier’s neck and the tips of his ears. Looks down to see the slight flagging of the younger man’s cock. The move must have shocked some of the mood out of his lover. ‘Can’t have that.’ Geralt thinks to himself and leans in to lick a wet path up the side of Jaskier’s neck who in turn laughs that melt into a moan as Geralt nips a pink earlobe. Just a little scrape of teeth that causes jaskier to lean into the him. Like a cat wishing to have their ears scratched.

It’s has the desired effect. Jaskier is now back to full hardness and Geralt leans back to look at heavy-lidded blue eyes. Making a show - Geralt licks the expanse of his palm before Reaching down and strokes down Jaskier’s cock with a firm touch that slicks the hard length and pulls foreskin back from cockhead. This has his Lark groaning throwing his head back and muttering to the skies a muted “bastard...” that has Geralt chucking. He grips the DJ closer to him as he torturously begins to stroke him. Jaskier huffs looks down at Geralt’s palming his cock and tries to thrust his hips into the wet warm circle of Geralt’s fist but he can’t. In the chic contraption of furniture they are in and with Geralt so close.... he’s effectively wedged in and at the older man’s mercy. “Your turn.” He breathes out, sucks in all 4 fingers of the free hand (his other is trapped by Geralt firm muscled back) and reaches down to grip Geralt’s massive length as best he can. ( fingers not even close to touching) and now it’s Geralt’s turn to curse and wet fingertips dance and skim over his cock. Firmly grasping at the base and pulling up making the skin around his cockhead crinkle and his toes curl. 

And this is how they play. Communicating in gasps and moans. Teasing touches and hard strokes. Both men breathing the same air focused so intently on reading the others pleasure. Every time Jaskier’s breath starts to stutter and he starts to wriggle, so close to the edge. Geralt slows his hand on that gorgeous cock and runs that hand down to grasp Jaskier’s aching balls effectively stopping the man in his tracks making jaskier whine high in the back of his throat. “Nooo ugh no no no... so close please.” Jaskier’s hand on Geralt’s cock moving in very short strokes at the tip then stilling completely as he tries to slow his heartbeat to a more reasonable level. Geralt although smug is not above being tortured by the other man himself. His heartbeat is in his dick when once reasonable recovered Jask grins wickedly and leans down to take the MMA Fighter’s heavy prick in his mouth. It really is a dick move by the DJ who sucks and swirls his tongue and mouth at the throbbing length. Fuuuck! Geralt cries out his free hand going into Jaskier’s hair to hold on by the root and he starts to slowly stroke Jaskier’s cock again making the other man gargle and moan.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Geralt grinds out making Jaskier snort and retaliate by lashing the underside of his cock with that clever songbird tongue. The Fighter’s hips move, pushing himself into the warm heat of Jaskier’s mouth that in turn has their seat rocking and bobbing. Geralt’s breathing comes quicker as he begins to feel the need rise. That electric feeling somewhere up in his spine, limbs and dick. Just when he thinks he’s about to come Jaskier pulls off with a wet pop, lips red and swollen but eyes twinkling and he strokes down Geralt’s cock too fucking slowly sending tremors up the other man’s spine.  
“Fuck you..” Geralt heaves, arousal like a roaring fire in his groin. “Fuck you.” Jaskier challenges back, he himself struggling for breath. Eyes fluttering shut as Geralt scrapes a blunt thumbnail down the groove of his dicktip. 

Both men continue this intimate torture of eachother. Pushing one another to the brink and pulling back in between needy moans, promises, pledges and swearing. One advances as the other retreats. Each time the pull from the precipice is that much harder, making them more desperate. Geralt doesn’t know how long they’ve been doing this but the shadows have moved across the room, he’s sweating and there is a sheen and nice glow to his Lark too. God he’s so turned now from all this edging that it wouldn’t take much. His cock throbs almost painfully. So much that he can even feel  
It in his arsehole. Geralt isn’t done tho. He wants to get his lover off first. He leans down and takes Jaskier’s cock in his mouth, and sucks - hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head. Oh OOOOH! YES! GERALT! Just like that! Oh! Oh god! Jaskier has managed to get enough traction with his feet spread and firmly planted on the floor that he’s rolling his hips in time to Geralt’s movements. This of course makes them swing. Geralt’s cock is being stroked quickly and firmly and it’s nearly enough. nearly.

Jaskier continues to babble. He’s getting louder, that perfect singing voice racing through octaves and cracking.

YES..PLEASE..oh OOOH PLEASE SO GOOD OH GOOooooood ... NO N-N-NO!

Suddenly jaskier wriggles and bucks wildly breaking free from Geralt eyes wide and wild as he desperately tries to cover himself with one hand, the other reaching out in the direction of the stairs.

Geralt’s frustrated anger and confusion stops dead in its tracks as he also leaps up trying to conceal himself  
“Oh FUCK!” He shouts and jaskier yells.

“Oh good god! Fuck! I’m so so sorry!.”

Staring at them with shocked faces and eyes and wide as dinner plates is their cleaning staff. It appears they’ve turned up a day early. 

Thank god for NDA’s. Both Jaskier and Geralt quickly cover up and apologise profusely once clothed and sporting matching blushes. Turns out the cleaners are early so there misunderstanding and resolution that soothes over any and all awkwardness. The poor people cannot quite look Geralt or Jaskier in the eye and to be honest Geralt can’t blame them. What would He have thought if he caught his manager in a compromising position. The thought made Geralt shudder. Once the cleaners and caretakers has left (thanks for killing the moment, same again tomorrow?) Geralt found himself leaning against the kitchen island with a large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. He took a long sip as Jaskier walked over. He poured himself a large glass and raised it to Geralt who mirrored him. “ well.... here to the most embarrassing blue balls incident in the history of man.” Geralt snorted, nodding and drained his drink. “Indeed I’m not going to forget that in a hurry...” he huffed and closed the distance between himself and jaskier who pouted into his wine, deep in thought. Geralt leant into the younger man’s ear and whispered “come on lark. Let’s change the security code then go finish where we left off.” Jaskier looked him in the eyes and quickly drained his drink, setting the glass down with a bit much more force then necessary against the granite top. “Mmmm yes. I’d like that” jaskier replied, nodding vigorously. Geralt kisses him firmly on the lips and took jask by the hand to go do just that.


	4. Postcards from the Edge of Nowhere - part 1 of?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier go to Burning Man.

It was Jaskier’s idea to drive to the festival and Geralt had his reservations. There would be queues as massive as fuck, the desert heat would cook them to bits, no security measures and then all the prep they would have sort out. Such as having Gallons of water both for consuming and washing. Hmmm ..... well what was really the point with all that dust? And then one of the rules of Burning Man. You take with you what you make or bring. You leave no trace. So all their junk would need storage. It WAS doable just a minor headache for the entire 9 days. But he took one look at that the folded arms and pouting face. “Geralt I don’t want us to fly in like the google CEO or other dickheads who have got a bit of cash and done good. I was the real deal. Don’t you think that would be THE experience? to be ONE of the people....?” A tentative hand rested on his shoulder. Geralt looked up at the ceiling and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” He relented. The excitement was tangible for months . Jaskier booked their tickets in advance the previous year and had, with his team found a theme camp to join (under a pseudonym of course) and had everything planned to a tee including where in Black Rock City their ‘street’ would be located and whom they would be sharing the camp with on the Burner forums and messageboards again, under a fake name. Sure people might be surprised to see that their neighbours turned out to be a current UFC fighting heavyweight champion and his would renowned DJ beau but hey... Jaskier convinced (well tried) to convince Geralt that once the initial shock passes everyone would be cool and treat them just like regular people. Which Geralt snorted at but did admit it would feel nice for once And that was how they came to be driving well CRAWLING more like down to the The Gate at the Playa with some of the 70,000 strong that make up Black Rock City. Their rented Airstream Excella is snug with supplies - bedding that they don’t mind getting ruined (no bajillion thread count Egyptian cotton here!) gallon bottles of water, costumes, food tins, dried goods more aloe Vera lotion, sun cream and sun oil and toiletries then a drugstore and costumes. The unrelenting sun beats down making their airstream shine like a silver bullet, a spaceship, a shark in the water! Jaskier has dubbed it their Great White Shark. Geralt has no idea why. 

Coasting down the 2 way with bumper to bumper traffic he can’t help but smirk looking at his Lark sitting next him, bare feet up on the dash. His toes are painted a vivid blue. Denim cutoffs ride high on his calves and he’s drumming a beat with one had to the song he’s playing. A demo sent to him for Stefani that he’s due to work on. One hand stretched out the window and winding lazily through the desert wind to the swells and soar of the music like a conductor. The sunshine glints and dazzles off his rings. Fingers painted bone-white. Jaskier’s shirt is open down to the last two buttons at the bottom. He doesn’t remember the designer but the pattern is that of the heavens. A riot of constellations in black and white flittering in the breeze. Geralt tugs at his black muscle vest. It’s a loose fit and yet somehow His mass still fills it. Nicely so if you were to ask his companion. A skull half-mask folded down round Geralt’s neck covers his medallion. A few clever twists buried in his trademark white hair. Off-black cargo shorts that are roomy and sit low and desert boots make up the remainder of Geralt’s outfit.  
He turns to find his Lark beaming at him and Geralt can’t help but give a smile of his own. “Excited?” He asks the DJ  
“You have no idea.” is the sunny reply.


	5. Postcards from the Edge of Nowhere (part 2 of?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burning Man Virgins and Instagram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highly recommend Jai Wolf’s belter Indian Summer. That’s what I’ve been listening to while writing 👌🏻

The Gate process was surprisingly smooth despite the enormous Queues and as the   
Airstream slowed more curious friendly ‘Burners’ took note of who was inside. Waving and screaming their Names. “Whoah!!! It’s the Butcher of Blaviken!” “Yo! OMG Jaskier is here!” “Oh Dude you guys Rock!” Whistles and cheers from the few that spotted them mixed With other epithets that the both of men had heard before but didn’t find any less warming. Other vehicles some standard, some more.....Mutant. Cruised passed or alongside. This had jaskier pointing and crowing with delight. “Look at that one Geralt! Ooooo omg look at that one! A giant gold dragon!” The white fine dust swirled and kicked up creating a fine mist that made the whole thing seem like a MADMAX ride-along on acid. Geralt chuckled. It was pretty cool so far and they were not even situated inside Black Rock City yet. This was going to be an interesting 9 day event. 

There is a new story up on insta. Dated 12 noon. It’s only 5 minutes or so long and from a page that rarely does stories. The owner isn’t really the biggest social media user. @GeraltRivia_Official. And it really is the MMA fighters’ judging from the lil blue tick (the Instagram seal of approval)

A quick click on the circular profile pic ( a moody candid from the ring replete with light-noise, sweat, blood-soaked skin and steely determination wrapped up in a powerfully victorious image of the owner)   
And the video comes to life.

Shaky phone holding that evens out the stark image of bone white dust and brilliant blue sky, not a single cloud. Heat haze in the distance and a tall, lean man centre-stage and beaming at the man behind the camera phone. 

“Hey..” the voice says gruffly  
“Well hello there” jaskier smiles and rubs the back of his neck.  
“So what did the man back there say to you Jask? Tell em.” Geralt asks casually.  
“Well..... the Guy said -umm amazing fella by the way very nice - THAT we as Burner Virgin need to umm. Get into IT..? To give ourselves to the Playa.” Jaskier is all hand movements, gesturing to the dirt at their feet, his rings tinkling against one another.   
“What does that mean?” Geralt DOES know full well what Jaskier is on about, he was there for the prior conversation just after they got their wristbands and passes on site.  
“It means we make dust angels.” Comes the mock serious time and pout as Jaskier’s eyes him over the camera like this is serious business.  
The clip cuts and another instantly begins and some times has skipped because Jaskier’s now on the ground in the chalky dirt making a ‘dust angel’ kicking up great clouds of the fine alkaline powder. Laughing “woooooo..... gettin all nice and dustyyyy.”   
Quickly he leaps up and comes right into shot giggling. Right your turn! He grabs the phone bring the video into a closeup of his face and neck. It’s as if he’s been to Holi and they ran out of colours. White powder turning dark brown locks milky and his face looks gritty at the sides. It’s in Jaskier’s chest hair and his clothes making the DJ appear sun-bleached. His eyes look vividly blue up close. The video cuts and a new one starts. It’s Geralt. He’s rucksing about on the playas ashy surface kicking up great clouds of the stuff. While Jaskier comments from behind the cameraphone. “Yes Witcher! Get ready to Burn, my Love!”   
There is in impressive leap up onto his heels from Geralt position on the floor. His hair white and wild with alkaline dust. The dirt highlights the tan, contours and scars on Geralt’s skin. The best top has ridden up to expose the top of his V and bellybutton. Joytrail dissapearing into the waistband of dark cargo shorts that are no longer that but mottled with white dirt.   
“How’d I look”. He asks jaskier panting a little in the heat. “Fantastic” is the warm reply behind the cameraphone.   
The last clip is of the both of them, phone held away at arms length by Geralt. People ride or walk by in the background all equally dressed in their outlandish best. Geralt addresses the camera. “Well are we ready?”  
Jaskier has an arm draped over his. “Oh yes I think so.” He replies before both men lean into each other for a quick kiss. Thats the end of the video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much appreciation goes out to Kissa. Poor lady puts up with my AU ramblings


	6. Postcards from the Edge of Nowhere (part 3 of ?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier join in on the Playa life.  
> Become part of Brokilon and show fans via Instagram.

@its_Jaskier has a new insta story hit about 3 hours later. A series of 5 segments that hit up on the active page. The little round icon shows the image of his latest album campaign - all neon saturation and a silhouette of a man against the backdrop of a baying crowd.

One click and the first video starts. White balance trying to cope with the surroundings as the image comes into focus. “We are here.” Comes the excited voice. “Ready for fun and adventure.” Jaskier rounds the side of the silvery swish mobile home they have for the duration. He’s holding the phone at arms length and the auto-focus stutters Everynow and again making the image grainy in fits and starts. Geralt is seen walking up along side him. At once acknowledging the camera with a glance and most minute of hand gestures. Both still sandy in their desert getup.  
Jaskier still in his same clothing. Now wearing goggles (custom Carolina Lemeka visor style in lime green) and a white bandana hangs round his neck. 

They round the corner of the airstream. It’s parked against a enormous camp - well more of a village. The main hub is Bedouin in construct with stretched canvases in a maze of shapes and scaffold poles. There’s a riot of shades of green and brown fabric, cardboard and wood. A magical Forest in the desert replete with paper lanterns inside, hammocks. For campmates to sleep or relax in amounts the “trees”. The enormous wooden sign reads ‘Brokilon Forest - home of the dryads’ 

“And this is our camp.” Jaskier gestures craning the phone up  
To get a good look of the area with its surrounding tents sheltered under the ‘trees’ and RVs and mutant vehicles flanking it, Brokilon looks at once formidable, mystical and inviting. Geralt comes up Into frame and puts a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, a quiet presence in the background letting the other man take the limelight. Jaskier smiles and addresses the cameraphone “lets go meet the neighbours.” The story cuts out as both men enter the hub space and there’s the cut of sound of gasps and greetings. 

The next story springs to life with a side view of Brokilon. Inside the vast tent there are many ‘villagers’ the usual festival fodder of young nubile things, dreadlocked/pierced veteran burners, insta models, grizzled hippies and rockers. All wearing Brokilon colours of teal green and gold. It’s almost a mobbing with both Geralt and Jaskier receiving a warm welcome of cheers and hugs “omg it’s the Butcher of Blaviken!” Jaskier I was at your last tour in Montreal!” “Wow. Welcome!”  
All through this both men are being patient with the enthusiastic invasion of personal space. Alot of the people here seem to be huggers. This makes Jaskier huff a laugh in surprise. The image on the insta story getting jostled and patchy in some moments. Geralt can be See just standing to the side. He’s got an arm on Jask’s shoulder. His face neutral save for a few instances where he quirks his brows. Okay so people here are a bit touchy-feely...the video jumps and cuts out.

The next one starts and shows a close image of Jaskier’s face. He addresses the cameraphone. “Soooo wow what a lovely warm welcome by our new Dryad family.” There are a few woops in the background. “So.... umm we are to be initiated. Ahah. Thankyou. Ummm what’s in this?” He asks a lady off to the side, just out of shot “ these are the waters of Brokilon” the woman says handing the DJ a leather encased water bottle . The contents cannot be seen. “ what do you think? He looks to his left where Geralt is sitting next to him. “Hmmm.” Geralt huffs before looking in thought. Then takes the water bottle he sniff it looks to the cameraphone, shrugs and leans close to Jaskier “would be rude not to.” He rumbles in that deep baritone and takes a big drink from the bottle.

The ‘waters’ taste vaguely spicy and definitely alcoholic. There’s a distinct herbal tang at the back of Geralt’s throat. He clears his throat as best he can and blinks a few times as warmth settles in his belly. eyeing Jask as he takes the bottle. “How was it?” The younger man asks, kinda to him AND the phone audience. “Interesting” he grinds out as Jaskier follows suit. He leans back and takes a long pull of the concoction before handing it back to one of the Brokilon members who are smiling. some are laughing at their reactions. Jaskier coughs putting a hand to his chest “Oh, I got a lot of that!” Geralt pats his back and they look both expectantly at the ‘leader’ a dreadlocked woman in vibrant gold face and body paint takes the bottle away and gestures with open arms. “Welcome to our Family. While you are here at Black Rock City, you are both Children of Brokilon!” There are whoops and cheers. Jaskier gets up and spins the phone round, showing off the camp and it’s people. 

The video jumps to the last video of @its_Jaskier’s current story. Both men are standing at one of the tarp entrances to Brokilon, this casts them in shade while outside, the Playa appears stark white and sun bleached. There are festival goers milling about in the background and the far far distance The Man can be seen. He looks matchstick thin and gleaming in the boiling sun. In the foreground Geralt can be seen leaning against one of the large ‘tree’ constructs - inter connecting scaffold pole with gauzy brown and gold silks and tiny fairy lights twinned round and round. “So....” jaskier asks conversationally “what did you make of the... initiation drink?” Geralt scoffs and leans in close to jaskier. “I think it tasted like schnapps and something else.... hmm. Nothing scary though.” Jaskier smiles. 

“You know I was chatting to one of the camp members and they were saying that this group do workshops for poi, fire-poi and basket weaving. That’s pretty cool. And there’s sustainability and climate change seminars?” Geralt nods and dryly replies between sips from a metal canteen “sounds like a Auretuza weekend but more fun.” Jaskier’s chuckles before reaching for the can and sipping water. “Let’s go explore.” The video cuts out.

Jaskier pockets his phone and Geralt grabs the canteen taking another hearty swig before putting it away on his back pocket. Jaskier clears his throat all too loudly to be genuine and more for effect Geralt summises and leans down to grab two short squat contraptions at his side, seemingly just waiting for them on the sandy floor. “Ta Da!” The DJ holds them up to Geralt as if they are prized fish he’s caught. “Those are missing a wheel or more.” The MMA fighter takes one of the boards and turns it over in his hands. A short fat plank with hidden motor imbedded underneath a large wheel cut into the middle and two small foot grips at either end. “Ah well no... Geralt. That is a Onewheel. I think it’s a bit like if a skateboard and a snowboard had sex and this was the resulting baby. Well either way... it’s our mode of transport. I’ve borrowed them from one of our new family. Come on let’s go!” Before a bemused Geralt can say anything his pulled by the hand out into the blistering heat of the day by one excitable lover.

The onewheel as it runs out isn’t hard to master. It’s all about core strength and balance. The faster you wanna go the further you lean. Both men are zipping along the vast Playa in minutes kicking up clouds of dust as they go. Weaving and bobbing past fellow ‘Burners’ and villages of Black Rock City. 

They stop at what looks like a giant gateway made of prisms and iridescent glass. It’s known as the Pulse Portal and is me the to be a archway to a far and distant magical land. Jaskier takes a picture of Geralt... his Witcher standing with his back to him and looking over his shoulder. Jaskier inform him that he has “that scary face on point” and uploads the image to @its_Jaskier  
#lookout #herecomesthewitcher #witcher #magical #intense #pulseportal #BM2020 #baeslays 

The next one they ride up to is simply 3 sign posts “nowhere” “self” and the infinity symbol. Geralt hums at the pretentiousness but Jaskier takes a picture of it anyway. #deep #weareunamused #whatwhywherehowwho #BM2020

Further out from the ‘City’ the come to a series of large horse skeletons. Burnished black and decorated with strips of rubber that give the motion of their gallop some weight. Geralt smiles at this one. Jaskier snaps a picture of the Fighter giving it a thumbs up. #wildhorses #sealofapproval #horseboi #witcher #BM2020

They decided to head back to camp after that. It was getting hot. Must have been in the 90s, Geralt mused judging from the overheated look of his lover who had decided to take his shirt off and wrap it round his head to protect from the unrelenting sun. Geralt had abandoned his vest 2 stops back when it had clung to him like a second skin with sweat. All the while you were moving on the onewheel you were fine. Stopping meant instant stickiness. The Temple could wait til later. Both men donned their goggles and face masks (half-skeleton for Geralt and white bandana for Jaskier) and they headed back to Brokilon and their Airstream.

When the men get in, the first thing they do is set the air-con on to Baltic. It’s instantly blissful as the interior of their home away from home goes from inside-of-lava-lamp hot to chilly in minutes. Geralt hears an audible sigh from Jaskier as he pulls off his now ruined Jeremy Scott Adidas 3 stripes 2.0 trainers and chucks them in a corner. Off comes the shirt from his head with exaggerated tug that sends fine powder everywhere it joins the trainers. Geralt pulls two VOSS waters from the fridge and hands one to Jask. His canteen drained and whatever drops were left would now be lukewarm and metallic tasting. They both drink deeply breathing hard from the shock and bliss of the cold. “okay?” Geralt mutters nodding to Jaskier. Noting that he can barely see the DJ’s hardened nipples (hello temperature difference). It seems Jaskier’s thick chest hair now contains half the Playa. Geralt is not much better. Looking down, he can see all his chest hair highlighted in white, nipples pebble as a shiver runs through him. It’s then Geralt notices Jaskier staring as him.

**Author's Note:**

> Dara and Ciri is that friendship we all had in high school. Thick as thieves and each others shadow.
> 
> I could not resist a modern twist on the whole Witcher potions schtick. Now they are health tonics for those strong of stomach! 🤢 also a lil nod to no.1 rosemary if you squint (Henry Cavill is a shareholder in the health drink biz)
> 
> Geralt DOES have a horse called Roach at the livery. He rides when he can. 
> 
> Jaskier is THAT Gucci boi. Property agent I hear you say? More to expand on what Jaskier has bought in the future. 
> 
> Sexy alone times to follow.


End file.
